


A Difficult Thing

by 27dragons



Series: 27dragons' Tony Stark Bingo [10]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Bisexual Tony Stark, Gen, Howard Stark's A+ Parenting, Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-30
Updated: 2019-03-30
Packaged: 2019-12-26 21:58:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,095
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18291029
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/27dragons/pseuds/27dragons
Summary: Love is a lot harder than it really ought to be. It’s a good thing Tony has Jarvis in his corner.(Tony Stark Bingo fill for square S3 - Edwin Jarvis)





	A Difficult Thing

The first time Tony falls in love, he is fourteen. Oh, he’s had a couple of crushes before, but this, he’s certain, is the Real Deal.

Amelia is a freshman at the boarding school where Tony is a senior, which makes them the same age, or close enough. They’re in a club together -- the Future Business Leaders of America, which was Howard’s idea. The club is pretty boring, so Tony spends most of his time watching her surreptitiously.

She’s gorgeous, for one thing. At least three inches taller than Tony in their sneakers. She’s got actual boobs, where a lot of the freshman girls are still pretty flat. Her eyes are dark and they kind of sparkle when she’s laughing. And when she’s thinking hard, her tongue sort of sticks out, just a tiny bit, and it’s so damn cute it makes Tony want to kiss her.

Except he’s pretty sure she has no idea he even exists.

But in the spring, when he’s finally decided which of the several universities courting him he’s going to accept, he screws up his courage and approaches her after a club meeting.

“Hi.”

She glances at him, and goes back to gathering up her books. “Hi.”

“I’m Tony.”

Amelia rolls her eyes. “I know.”

“You do?” That’s a good sign, right?

“You’ve been in the club all year,” she says, stuffing everything in her backpack haphazardly. “Randy says you’re just trying to boost your college apps.”

Randy is a junior who’s just jealous that Tony’s robot pounded his to dust in the battlebot competition last year. “They don’t need boosting,” Tony tells Amelia. “I’m going to M.I.T.”

“Good for you,” she says, slinging the backpack over her shoulder. The movement makes the front of her shirt gape a little and gives Tony a glimpse of the top of her bra. It’s cream-colored with a little bit of lace.

“Do you, uh, want to go to the movies on Saturday?” He’s given this some thought. There aren’t many options for dating on the school campus. Boys and girls are absolutely not allowed in each other’s dorms, the dining hall is uncomfortably public, and while Tony wouldn’t mind showing off his genius, he knows study dates in the library are _not_ cool.

Amelia steps back and gives him the once-over, head to toe and back up again. “Sure,” she says. Tony’s heart jumps up into his throat and a sensation floods his limbs like weightlessness, and then she adds, “But not with you.”

***

Tony’s grateful that neither of his parents is free to pick him up at the train station when he comes home for spring break. Not that he expected them to; they haven’t picked him up personally since his first year at boarding school, when he was seven.

Instead, it’s Jarvis, with his hat and his ridiculous old-fashioned pinstriped trousers, waiting stiffly at almost-attention while everyone else slouches or leans or even sits on the floor.

Tony’s so grateful to see him that tears threaten for a moment, when Jarvis steps forward to take Tony’s suitcase.

Jarvis squeezes his shoulder gently. “Welcome home, Master Anthony. I regret that your parents were unable to meet you personally. They hoped to, but were unfortunately otherwise detained. They’re looking forward to seeing you at dinner.”

_You don’t have to pretend,_ Tony almost tells him. He’d rather it be just Jarvis, anyway. But he doesn’t. These little social fictions, after all, are the glue that binds their dysfunctional family together.

“I’ve luncheon prepared and waiting for you at the house,” Jarvis continues, leading the way. “And a freshly-baked chocolate cake.”

“I ate on the train, Jarv,” Tony lies.

Jarvis looks at him, more closely this time, and Tony doesn’t quite squirm under the butler’s scrutiny. “Well, then, Master Anthony,” he says, “I hope you’ll do me the honor of joining me while I have a bite or two. I quite forgot my own luncheon.”

That’s a bald-faced lie; Jarvis is very precise about his schedule. He never _forgets_ to do anything. But it’s just barely possible that picking Tony up at the station, amongst his other duties, made him postpone his meal. “If you want,” Tony mutters.

“And perhaps you’ll consent to tell me what’s got you so distressed.”

An hour later, Tony is in the kitchen, scraping the tines of his fork through the remnants of chocolate frosting on a plate, making idle patterns as he spills out his heart.

When he finally winds down, Jarvis is quiet, thinking. He collects the dishes and washes them -- by hand, even though Howard fitted out the kitchen with a dishwasher ages ago.

Lacking anything else to do, Tony gets up to dry them, earning himself a warm smile that helps, a little, to ease the ache of loneliness. It’s only as he’s drying the last glass that Jarvis finally says, “Love is a difficult thing, sometimes, Master Anthony, even when the one we love does return our affections. But if you’ll forgive my saying so, I can’t think well of a young lady who could be so cruel in her refusal. To be rebuffed is hard, of course -- but to be so thoughtlessly toyed with...” He shakes his head. “Perhaps the pain you are feeling, Master Anthony, is less that of unrequited love, and more the disappointment of learning the one you cared for is unworthy of you.”

Tony hangs the dishtowel in its accustomed spot and then leans against the kitchen counter, dejected. “I’m going to M.I.T. in a few months,” he points out. “Everyone there will be too old for me to date.”

“You may be too busy with your studies to find that you feel the lack,” Jarvis suggests. Tony gives him a skeptical look, and Jarvis smiles, a little. “In any case, university is hardly the last chapter of your life.” He pats Tony’s shoulder. “You will find love again, Master Anthony, I promise. Someone out there is waiting to love you for everything that you are, and simply doesn’t know it, yet.”

Tony’s heart still aches, but Jarvis’ care eases the pain somewhat. “Thanks, Jarv.”

***

Tony is seventeen when he comes down to the kitchen for a bag of ice to put on the bruise on his face. It’s been a while since Howard did more than just yell at him, which is how Tony knows he’ll be heading back to school the day after Christmas instead of staying until New Year’s like his mom wants.

He’s hoping to get in and out without encountering anyone, but today is not his lucky day. As soon as he crosses the threshold, Jarvis is looking at him with that pinched expression Tony hates.

“Master Anthony--”

“It’s fine,” Tony interrupts, a little sharper than usual. “Dad already read me the riot act, you don’t have to give me a lecture. Disgracing the family name, making a laughingstock of myself, ruining my future prospects, I got it.” All because some tabloid photographer caught him out on the town with a _man_. He yanks open the freezer door and grabs a handful of ice cubes from the dispenser.

Truth told, Jarvis’ disapproval cuts deeper than Howard’s.

When he turns around, Jarvis is right there, holding up a plastic zip-lock bag for him.

Jarvis smoothly catches the ice in the bag, seals it, and wraps the whole thing in a clean dish towel, then places it gently against Tony’s swelling cheek. Tony lifts a hand mechanically to hold it in place.

“Do you care for the young man?” Jarvis asks. “Or were you simply hoping to provoke your father?”

“I love him,” Tony says, fiercely defiant. “And Ty loves me, too.”

“Does he make you happy?”

“Happier than I’ve ever been.” Which is not _quite_ true, Tony is forced to admit to himself -- that honor is reserved for the moment he realized Rhodey had no idea he was _that_ Stark, which meant Rhodey actually liked _him_ \-- but he’s happier than he’s ever been in a romantic relationship before, and that has to count for something.

“Then there’s nothing more for me to say,” Jarvis says mildly. “I will admit to harboring some concern, given Master Stone’s reputation for petty cruelty, but I will trust your judgment. Reputation, as we both know, is often wrong.”

“You’re not going to comment on my _proclivities?_ ” Tony asks.

Jarvis turns away, reaching to take the cover off the cookie jar. “Is there anything I could say which would change your feelings?”

“No.” Tony lifts his chin, daring Jarvis to disagree.

“I thought not. You are hardly the first bisexual I’ve known, Master Anthony, and I doubt you’ll be the last. My chief concern is whether your partner will treat you with respect and kindness, and not the contents of their trousers.” He puts several gingerbread cookies on a plate and raises an eyebrow at Tony. “I’m somewhat dismayed that you would believe otherwise of me.”

Tony swallows, guilt circling his stomach, and slides into a chair. “I’m sorry.”

Jarvis sets the plate in front of Tony, and then pours him a glass of milk. “No matter. I suspect your father’s reaction clouded your judgment somewhat.”

“Yeah, I guess,” Tony says. He bites the head off a gingerbread man. “Sorry,” he says again.

“Don’t talk with your mouth full,” Jarvis chides, and Tony knows he’s forgiven.

He swallows. “Thanks, Jarv.”

***

Tony is older than he cares to dwell on as he strolls through the cemetery, eyes flicking from marker to marker as he passes the neatly ordered and carefully curated rows. He takes the longer, winding path, because it’s a nice day for a walk and because there are other people on the shorter path, and he doesn’t want to meet anyone today.

He crouches in front of his mother’s gravestone, brushes his fingers across the letters of her name and dates. “Hey, Mom,” he says, though he doesn’t really feel her lingering. Not here. If her spirit had lingered anywhere, it was in the old piano. The one that had been destroyed when Killian’s goons blew up his house.

He lays the bouquet of white lilies on the ground and watches the petals flutter in the light breeze. After a while, he stands up, brushing nonexistent dirt from his knees.

He glances at the stone beside hers. “Dad.” Howard’s marker is decorated with his accomplishments. Tony’s pretty sure Howard would find that exactly as it should be. Even after all this time, though, he doesn’t have much to say to his father.

He doesn’t linger. He has another stop to make, and his schedule for the rest of the day is packed tight. He heads down the path again, watching the names go by.

There are no headstones in this part of the cemetery, just simple bronze markers, and the plots are laid much closer together. It should seem cheaper, but Tony thinks it feels more intimate. More private. And fitting, that Jarvis should rest within reach of his beloved Ana, whom Tony barely remembers at all.

He kneels to touch the marker’s words, the edges of the letters slightly shiny. It’s been decades since Jarvis passed, long enough that Tony no longer gets choked up when he remembers. It’s just a wistful wisp of melancholy.

“Hi, Jarvis. I know it’s been a while. I’m not sure you’d believe me if I told you what I’ve been doing, the last few years.” He considers it. “Actually, considering some of the stories Aunt Peggy told me, you might. But that’s not important right now.”

He lays the simpler, colorful bouquet on the ground between Jarvis and Ana’s markers. “I came to tell you that I’m getting married tomorrow. I thought you’d want to know that. And that you were right. It took longer than I thought it would. Sometimes I thought you were just wrong.

“But here we are. And you were right. There was someone out there waiting to love me, all of me, for who I am. And everything I learned about love... I learned it from you.” He touches the marker once more, then stands up and draws a deep, cleansing breath.

It’s a beautiful afternoon. Tony will spend the rest of the day with his friends and the family he’s chosen, in celebration, and he’ll spend the rest of his life with his beloved. And he’d be a fool not to acknowledge his debt to this man, who was more of a father to Tony than Howard ever was.

“Thanks, Jarv.”


End file.
